


Over

by Music_Is_My_Muse



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, POV Second Person, gender neutral protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 18:38:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11469375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Music_Is_My_Muse/pseuds/Music_Is_My_Muse
Summary: Over.It's almost over.The pain, the breathlessness, the trauma.It's almost over....Right?





	Over

**Author's Note:**

> Just something written to help me deal with my trauma. Decided I liked it as somewhat of a think piece. Enjoy(?).

Over.

It's almost over.

Soon. Soon, the pain in your belly will end. The raw feeling of your flesh. The soreness of your swollen lips and the hand around your neck, squeezing, squeezing so tight. 

You gasp for air and a tiny bit makes it past his palm. Your head swims and your vision flickers. Where are you? 

You can't look. His hand is too tight. You squirm and grab at his arms; he smacks you. No breath, no air, need air need air need air! Breathe breathe breathebreathebreathe! Then finally…  _ whoosh _ , into your lungs. Air. The ache of his hand subsides before it becomes even more intense than it had been.

His lips are close now. Disgusting breath rolls over you, and you can get just enough air in your nose that you'll never forget it. You notice his eyes--four of them?--swimming in front of you. Too close. Like he's forcing you to know that no one will save you.

Between your legs is finally starting to drop into a dull ache, until he hits something deep, something not meant to be touched in such a hateful act. There's a scream--is that you? That can't be, it's a rough sound, like sandpaper. And you didn't think you moved your lips. It can't be his, though, he has done nothing but pant on you and call you dirty things.

Vision is leaving you quickly. Oh please, you tell yourself, don't let me forget his face. Please someone help me. But no one is coming to help. You are alone. With him. 

The hand leaves your throat, only to grab your jaw and hold you still. There are lips on you, and then sharp teeth. You taste blood on his breath. Yours? Maybe.

The hips still. He hurts inside. You can hear his breath catch as his lips still. There is total silence as you watch him spill. Then, he smiles. It's sickly-sweet; the smile of a demon who has gotten what he wants.

He has taken your body, your breath, and your spirit. You can't move as he pins your hands at your sides. Your eyes stare at the ceiling, your mind going blank. This can't be happening, it simply can't be.

But then, oh, but then, his mouth is on you and you don't want it but it feels so good. You squirm and feel him laugh against you before he makes a comment about you enjoying yourself.

There is no stopping when he forces you over your edge. Even as pleasure spreads from your center, a deeper feeling cradles it, forcing itself into every inch of your body and mind.

Finally, finally he's off of you. Your breath heaves but you don't cry or scream. You blank out as he compliments your body, your noises. They're pain, you think, they shouldn't be pretty.

But he pets you on his way out and covers you with a sheet. It hides the bruises and the scars but it can't hide what he's done.

You roll onto your side and face the wall.

It will never be over.


End file.
